


Testing an Internet Theory

by kio_kio



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AO3 Exists, Actually not a Crack Fic, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Horny John Watson, Horny Sherlock Holmes, Johnlock Exists, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, Sherlock Feels, Sherlock’s imagination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-12 11:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20563820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kio_kio/pseuds/kio_kio
Summary: Scrolling down Google he saw a curious search resultSherlock Holmes/John Watson- Works | Archive of Our OwnA slash between their names? Not a and or a and sign?Sherlock felt his brows raise 3 millimeters.He had a hunch. A very good hunch. A well educated guess.(Or: Sherlock reads Fanfiction for 'research' but results in wanting to test his theory. This was supposed to be a Crack Fic, but ended up being pretty serious. I'm sorry?)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello fellow fandom people!  
I originally started to watch Sherlock to help me write [**this MCU/RPF fic**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18990436), but here I am, sinking deeper and deeper into the lagoon (´・ω・`)ﾉ  
As written in the summary, I really had intended on this being a total crack fic, but with the last chapter being written right not, it has turned into a somewhat serious fic. Weird, ain't it?  
This fic started from a train of thought I had after watching too many interviews of actors being shown fanart. I started to think "If John Watson's blog exists on the internet, then so does things like Tumblr and AO3, right?"
> 
> Anyways, a few simple warnings:  
・I personally like BottomLock more than TopLock. Just personal preference! I read both, but just personal preference! So, seriously no hard feelings to anyone that prefers TopLock!!  
・Also, no hard feelings for PWP writers. Seriously. If anything, I love you. Thank you for your beautiful smut that I need to mend my dying soul. I mean no harm to you all, at all!!  
・Not brit-picked. The only Brits I know are a few of my male coworkers. So, yes. No way in hell.

It was all for research, of course.   
  
Reading John’s blog as well, all for research.  
Scrolling down the search engine page, it was just for research. See what the world thought of John, and himself, of course. Of course, all very important.  
It was only to check if there were any immediate threats to John, to himself. He’s heard enough about internet stalkers turning up in real life.  
On the other hand, he could maybe find valuable information. Maybe John’s blog would spark an interest in young children, a new bread of possible comrades. Highly unlikely, but John had taught Sherlock first hand to not lose hope in humans.

The possibilities were endless.

What he had instead found was a large amount of content about John  _ and _ him, together.

It had started as a boring morning. John was getting ready to head down to the clinic. He on the other hand didn’t have any experiments in mind, so he was on his laptop.  
Scrolling down Google he saw a curious search result

  
[Sherlock Holmes/John Watson - Works | Archive of Our Own](https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Sherlock%20Holmes*s*John%20Watson/works)

A slash between their names? Not a and or a and sign?  
Sherlock felt his brows raise 3 millimeters. 

He had a hunch. A very good hunch. A well educated guess.

He looked over at John at the dining table, nibbling at his toast while reading the paper. Less than a 5 percent chance for John to look this way for no reason.  
Bringing his eyes back onto the screen, he moved the mouse, clicking onto the link.

This was research. Just research. To see if his guess was correct. 

Keeping his breathing as normal as possible, he clicked on the check box, and clicked on the consent button.   
His breath did hitch when his eyes did see what the consent was given to.  
His mouth went dry, scrolling down. Tightness in his chest, as he scanned down.  
He slammed the laptop close. 

“Sherlock!?” John was startled by the sound.

“Isn’t it time for you to head out to work, John?”

“Oh, uh- I guess?”

“What time will you be coming back?”

“I’ll be back from the clinic at around 6, but gonna head out again before 7 for a date.”

“I see. . .”

“So don’t call or suddenly show up at my workplace just for your bloody amusement, alright?” There was a hint of amusement in John’s voice.

“Yes, yes, alright John.”  
Trying his damndest to cover up the unusual burst of embarrassment, he grabbed his laptop, and headed for his room.

As expected, in 7 minutes he heard John’s footsteps walking down the stairs.  
Breathing regulated, he opens his laptop again. 

  
  
  


Sherlock would never admit to crying because of something he has seen on the internet. And, he was definitely not admitting to have cried several times in one day.

It had initially only taken the detective a few hours to develop deep feelings for the man. Now after several years of working together, living together, spending countless hours together, of course he loved John and John loved him. Obviously. Such an extended amount of time spent together created deep affection for each other. Natural. Very natural. The problem was the category of love. 

He loved John Watson. He was in love with the other man. 

John, on the other hand, he couldn’t pinpoint what type of love it was. There were moments of lingering stares, and changes of facial movement that would usually prove the same type of attraction. However, there were so many facts that proved him differently. The (more than a) few girlfriends that John had dated over the years. The pornography sites that John had bookmarked on his computer (hidden, password protected, but so easily found and cracked by the detective). And, of course, the hundreds and hundreds of comments denying being gay or in a relationship with Sherlock.  
It was the first time in detective’s life that he had doubted his deductions. Maybe the physical hints that he was seeing was his wishful thinking. His overworking mind just feed him what he wants. 

His love for the other man had apparently made his deductive skills go haywire. 

All this doubt had fueled all the emotions he felt as he read the fiction written by their so-called ‘fans’. Various fictional versions of John loving Sherlock. The love filled declaration of his ‘true feelings’, that the real Sherlock could only wish the real John would have.

The first time he felt a tear spill over, he almost threw his laptop. Grabbing onto the side, hands shaking, he clenched his eyes close. 

How can these people who have never actually met them know exactly what he wanted? 

Outrageous and humiliating and embarrassing and

Sadly, somewhat fulfilling.

Breathing in, he let go of the laptop, and continued to read one after another over the span of a few hours.  


After reading at least a forth of the non-erotic ‘Love Confessions’ tagged writings, he looked at the time. It was a little before tea time. Lestrade hadn’t contacted him so far, he hadn’t had any visitors. It was safe to say that he won’t have any visitors that day.  
He would have some tea and indulge in the biscuits Mrs. Hudson had made an hour ago, which she would be bringing up to the sitting room in about 5 minutes. 

When he comes back, he was going to reset the filters on his search. 

He would still have a safe 2 hours before John comes home to indulge more and deeper into his fantasies. 

  
  


Sherlock couldn’t help but panting slightly. 

He felt perspiration starting to form on the back of his neck. Hot blood boiling downwards. His whole body tingling.

Biting his lips, he kept reading. 

The countless descriptions of John’s lips on his neck, on his nipples, on his thighs, on his cock, on his own lips. Some had described them soft and tender. Some had described them chapped and harsh. 

He didn’t care. He wanted them on him. 

Johns real lips, everywhere, anywhere on his body.

The way some had described Sherlock’s _long fingers_ wrapping around their pricks, _vigorously_ creating mutual pleasure for them both, moaning each other's names. How it was depicted that he would _calculatingly_ pleasure John with his tongue, _having memorized every nerve_ of the other man’s body. The real detective could only wish.

As he found one with a curious tag **PWP** and **bottomlock**, he couldn’t read it any faster. The terrible grammar, the rushed introduction, non-existent plot, the stupid amount of moaning. It didn’t matter.  
Finishing it in under 2 minutes, he closed his eyes. The laptop slid to the side, onto the mattress. 

He wanted to imagine that he was  _ that _ Sherlock.

Knowing the exact size of John’s hands, the exact temperature of John this time of year, it was all too easy. 

He slipped his dressing gown off. Laid down onto the bed.

Hiking his shirt up he grazed his hands.

He didn’t have too much time to be safe, but he wanted this so much.  
Taking a nipple between his fingers, he bit his lips. Rolling the nub, he closed his eyes. He brought his unoccupied hand up. Opening his mouth, he slipped two fingers in. 

It  _ wasn’t _ his fingers pulling and rolling his hardened nipple, it was  _ John’s _ .

It  _ wasn’t _ his fingers playing with his tongue, it was  _ John’s _ tongue in his mouth. 

Imagining John, naked, muscles twitching, smirking against his mouth, Sherlock let out a moan. 

Feeling his fingers getting soft, he took them out of his mouth.   
Kicking his trousers off, he went right into it.  
Bending his knees, feet on the mattress, he opened himself. With his soft spit slick fingers, he drew circles around his opening. He felt himself buck a bit forward.

_ “Such a beautiful slut. Presenting yourself like this. Legs open. Just wanting  _ ** _anything_ ** _ of mine inside of you.”  
_ He could almost imagine John’s hot breath on this ear. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

_ “Just so hungry for me, aren’t you?” _ Slowly a finger entered him.  _ “Hungry for  _ ** _my_ ** _ fingers? Hungry for  _ ** _my_ ** __ thick cock?”   
As his finger glided in, he grazed his prostate.  
Biting his lips, he mewled.

  
  


He showered and applied cream to some of his now-sensitive areas. There really was no need for anyone to get wind of the amazing masturbation session he just had. If his body flinched too often due to his shirt rubbing against his nipples, the caring doctor was bound to questions it.

Going back to the sitting room, he also went back to his research. 

Scrolling through many more ‘works’, he noticed something peculiar. There were many that were tagged ‘Top John Watson’ and ‘Bottom Sherlock Holmes’, but also many that were tagged as ‘Top Sherlock Holmes’ and ‘Bottom John Watson’. 

_ Interesting.  _

Why would anyone think that John would be a ‘bottom’?  
John was far more experienced at being the so-called ‘top’, with the amount of females he had sexual intercourse with in the past.  
Why should Sherlock, with no experience whatsoever, be the appropriate ‘top’? 

And, of course, why wouldn’t Sherlock chose to be the ‘bottom’.  
Why was there any doubt?  
Prostate stimulation induced orgasm far superior in intensity.  
Why purposely deny oneself from it?

Skimming through a few of the ‘Top Sherlock Holmes’ works, he tried to understand their reasoning. 

Many _Sherlocks_ not wanting penetration. Whining about it.

How was that possible? How is that rational?  
If he was to whine, it would be from being denied anal orgasm. That was rational.

Whining because of not getting to experience how experienced John was. That was also rational. 

Or, was it?  
Was there something he was not seeing? Something that these writers saw but he couldn’t? Was there something that they saw in Sherlock?  
No, couldn’t be it. Then, was it something about John that they saw and he didn’t?

A grin slowly appeared on his face.

He should definitely test his theory. And, whatever the outcome, he’ll at least have more data to help him more realistically masturbate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for making it this far!  
I have the 2nd and 3rd chapter pretty much done, so will post those in the next few days. I hope.  
Please keep me motivated by leaving Kudos and Comments!  
They fuel my will to write. :D
> 
> Also! Find me [on Twitter,](https://twitter.com/LazyBilingual) where I’m a lowly Japanese cosplayer that hardly tweets in English. Or [on Tumblr,](https://kio-asahi.tumblr.com/) where I don’t post that often <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: I'm Copy Pasting and posting this chapter right now, 10min before heading out for work.  
I will hopefully take the time later to look over and check for mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I will write something here when I get back from work.)
> 
> Edit: I really don't have anything much to write here, so, uh. Enjoy this chapter? It's gonna start getting smuttier and smuttier from here. (´・ω・`)ﾉ

When John climbed up the 17 stairs, he was met with the site of Sherlock looking like he was getting ready to leave.

“Oh. Welcome home, John.”

“Er-”

“Yes, I am going out for a case.”

“Do you-”

“Do not worry, it is a very simple case. You do not need to come with me. So you do not need to cancel your date.”

“Oh.” Sherlock could hear the disappointment that John was trying so hard to hide.

“Yes, also.” He made a slight waving motion. “The client has a very discreet business, so I do not think they would want a blogger reporting about it all.”

“I don’t write about it on the blog if the client doesn’t want to.” There was a bit of defense and irritation in John’s voice. Exactly what Sherlock wanted. 

“It doesn’t matter if you do or not. Doesn’t change that the client may feel worried.”

“I guess you’re right. . .”  
It did slightly hurt Sherlock to see John sound and look disappointed, but it was all to help him test his theory. Trying to ignore his own heart slightly sinking, he headed for the door.

Sherlock knew that John’s last date with any woman was over a month ago. John would of course never seek out ‘professional’ help. Simply, John was very sexually frustrated at the moment.  
John had never mentioned about this woman he is seeing that night at all, he had only announced the date this morning. Someone he just met and exchanged numbers a few days ago. Most likely at the cafe across the street from the clinic. This means that John didn’t have much care about the who. He was more interested in the sex.  
This also meant that a case, any case, would be more interesting to John. It would be even more interesting now that it was basically off limits to him. His head would constantly thinking about the case, he would fail to seduce the women. Or maybe he would purposefully fail to get back home early, see if his flatmate had finished the case and explain to him what had happened.

Either way, John would come home to Baker street, oozing with sexual frustration. 

  
  
  


He was surprisingly not disappointed when the cab stopped in front of 221 Baker street. Of course he was unbelievably horny. He was banking on the date going, preferably her bedroom or a hotel room. But, no.  
His mind kept wandering off to thoughts of the case. He found himself checking his phone constantly to see if Sherlock had sent him a text.

That was how his date decided to leave right after they had finished their desserts. 

However, as soon as he saw the lights on the second floor were on, he grinned to himself. Even if his sexual frustration wouldn’t be soothed, at least he would be able to stop feeling frustrated by the case.  


What might have been irritating him more was how he had noticed something during their date that he hadn’t noticed when he first met her a few days ago.   
She wasn’t very tall, that was his excuse.  
However, after almost finishing his 2nd glass of wine, he finally noticed. Her shoulder length hair was dark and curly hair. Her long slender fingers. Blue eyes. 

Too many features that reminded him too much of Sherlock. 

He chuckled to himself.

This wasn’t the first time, and most likely not the last. Almost always subconsciously, he dated someone with so many features like Sherlock. Or, was it him just looking for Sherlock within these women? Didn’t matter. He just kept proving to himself how helplessly, utterly, undeniably in love he was with Sherlock. 

Getting out of the cab, he kept his feet as stable as possible, as he walked toward the entrance slightly tipsy, a little frustrated, and very horny.  
  
  


Arriving on to the second floor, he saw Sherlock nonchalantly sipping tea while reading a book. He looked freshly showered, hair still damp. Neck a little red.   
John’s mouth went dry. Although, yes, Sherlock was wearing trousers, he wasn’t wearing anything under his dressing gown. The same dressing gown that was part of too many of John’s fantasies over the years. Thoughts of pounding into him with while the detective was only wearing that silky garment. Or, thoughts of ripping that bloody dressing gown off of him.  
Trying to regain the ability to speak, he opened his mouth again.

“How was the case?”

“It was nothing worth noting.” Sherlock didn’t even look up from his book. 

“Oh, come on, Sherlock! Must have been something, if a discreet business was desperate enough to have you help out.” John chuckled.

“Well, if you must know-” Sherlock sighed a bit and put his book down. “My client was an owner of an adult good store.”

“An adult goods store?” John did his best to not let his tipsy imagination go wild with the simple thought of Sherlock just being in such a place.

“Yes. From a few weeks ago, she noticed that slowly her products were being placed in the wrong places. She would fix them in the morning and made sure things were in the right place before leaving every night.”

“But, when she arrived the next morning, things were once again out of place?”

“Exactly.” Sherlock nodded. 

“Why didn’t she go to the police?”

“She did. However, being that nothing was stolen and the cameras did not catch anything, they really couldn’t help her. What really frightened her was that upon research she found out that the building her store is in used to be a base for a large drug cartel, so she started to suspect that it had something to do with that.”

“And, was it?” 

“Nope.” 

“Then ghosts!?” John was a bit shaken.

“That would have made things more interesting, to be honest.” Sherlock frowned. “It was actually one of her clerks  _ trying _ to make a fake documentary about ghosts. Probably thinking about selling it to some television. It seemed that the worker meant well, you know, free media coverage and all.”

“That’s unfortunate.” John frowned a bit.

“Why unfortunate?”

“Well, it seems that the clerk just wanted to help out their boss. Bring up the sales, make her happy. Hope they didn’t get fired or anything.”

“No no.” Sherlock shook his head. “No one was fired. Seemed that no damage was done.”

“Oh?”

“If anything, they seemed quite happy when the truth came out.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Smiling, John started to head back out the door. He was already horny when he came in, more when he saw Sherlock in the flesh, and now at his limits after listening to his story.   
No, it didn’t matter that Sherlock was in an adult store less than a few hours earlier (of course that knowledge did help), it was just listening to Sherlock’s voice. Listening to explain about the case.  
He was almost ready to run up to his room when Sherlock stopped him.

“By the way, here-” Sherlock took a brown paper back out from behind his chair. “Your share of the ‘payment’.”

“Payment?” Walking back he took the closed paper bag.

“Yes. Being that there wasn’t really a crime to solve, I couldn’t accept payment. So instead, she insisted on paying us in products. She gave me two of each of a few of her best selling products.” John froze.

“ _ Best selling products _ ?” He gripped the bag, feeling a blush creeping across his face.

“I was thinking of taking apart the motorized ones, see how resilient they are.”

“I, uh, really don’t think I need any of these, um, products-” John tightened his thighs. The thought of Sherlock simply holding a vibrator. Not even using it. Just holding one. He could feel his pants feeling slightly tighter. “I mean, I never really-” 

“Well, I guess you can always give them out as Christmas presents to your friends and coworkers.” Sherlock stated as if he was talking about giving out homemade biscuits for Christmas. 

“Right.” John slowly nodded. “Well then, good night Sherlock.” John couldn’t leave for his bedroom faster.

  
  


As he heard John’s bedroom door slam, Sherlock bit his lips  
He hated his overactive brain. When he noticed John’s slight change in posture, he saw what the older man was trying to conceal between his legs.  
He saw the slight bulge between John’s legs. A bulge that was less prominent a moment before.

That was enough information for Sherlock to calculate a good estimate of John’s size. 

He bit his lips more, trying to control himself.

John. Alone in his bedroom. The bedroom which was right above his head. With a bag full of sex toys. 

He licked his lips. 

Steadying his breath, Sherlock walked over to the telly. Opening the DVD player, he popped in a disc.

  
  


John really wanted to just rip his trousers off and get some sort of release.  
He was half hard, but with the date-night pants he was wearing, it was already too much.

But no. Can’t let loose. Not yet. 

Sharing a flat with a genius, he needed to know when to do certain things. It wasn’t like John was loud. But, it seemed that a door and a staircase wouldn’t be enough to keep Sherlock from knowing. 

Two options. Lock himself in the bathroom, run the shower.

Or,

He found himself grinning. 

Perfect.

He could hear the sound of Sherlock playing the violin from the lower floor.  
He didn’t need a shower anyways. He was taken a shower before leaving for his date, cleaned himself thoroughly in anticipation.  
Hurriedly, he undid his belt and slid down his trousers, sighing a bit as he felt less restriction. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt, he also quickly took his socks off. Taking a big breath, he opened the bag he had initially set on his bed.

The first thing was a clear plastic box. Long, sleek silicone vibrator. ‘20 different settings! Waterproof!’

No. He enjoyed the occasional anal pleasure, maybe a finger, but never wanted anything that big. Nope.

Next was what looked like a red water bottle. His eyes widened.  
He had heard of them before. A product from somewhere in Asia? Didn’t matter. He had thought about buying one, but with his current lifestyle (and flatmate) he was always worried about even going to an adult product store. And, no way in hell was he buying something on the internet and have it delivered to their flat. 

Climbing onto his bed, he sat comfortably up against the headboard. Slowly he rubbed his cock over his underwear. He hummed to himself from finally getting some stimulation.   
Taking off the wrapping and unscrewed the cap. Pouring in the lube, he slid his underwear down. He couldn’t help but sigh as his member was finally fully free.  
Closing his eyes, he stroked himself lightly.  
Of course it was the detective that came to mind.  
It always was, and at this point he didn’t care.

Feeling that he was fully erect, he pushed himself into the product. 

John let out a low moan. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Ditto with the beginning, I will write something here when I get back from work. apologies)
> 
> Edit: So, the 'Product' that John is using here is a Tenga.  
A generic Tenga really just looks like a red water bottle. I know this too well because, as discreet as Japan is about sex, adult products stores all have huge signs that say "TENGA SHOP!" in the windows.  
Bigger Adult Product stores even go this far
> 
> So, yeah. Seeing things like this everyday on the way to work, makes you think about putting it into smutty fanfics. \\_(ツ)_/


	3. Chapter 3

Once he pushed play on the DVD player’s remote, Sherlock headed upstairs.   
Making sure he didn’t step on the creaky 9th and 10th step, he slowly climbed the stairs. Getting close to the door, he heard John moan.

He sucked in a breath. He felt precum forming at his own tip. 

He needed to know. He needed to see.  
Quickly turning off the stairway lights, he held onto the door knob. Adding a slight pressure upwards, he was able to turn the knob without causing a click.  
Giving himself 15mm, he was able to see the other man on the bed. 

Sherlock needed to bite down on his lips  _ and  _ cover his mouth with his hands. The sight was just too much.

Body up against the headboard, face up, panting slowly. That muscle hugging shirt with extra buttons open, revealing chest hair that Sherlock rarely got to see. John’s cock, as thick as Sherlock had estimated, slowly being engulfed by one of the products he had given him. John’s other hand clinging onto the sheets, legs slightly open, toes curling into the mattress.   
To stop his own moan, Sherlock was now biting his hand.  
He should step away.  
Go back downstairs.  
He got the data he initially wanted, didn’t he?  
He now had proof on what John preferred.  
It would be enough.  
Enough information to help him masturbate from here on out. That was the end goal.

But he couldn’t. 

So much did he want to lick the sweat sliding down from John’s ear to neck. Slide his fingers along those muscular thighs. Feel the other man’s grasping at his hips.  
Feel John inside of him. 

Then suddenly, John’s hips bucked upwards. Opened his mouth wide to let out a louder moan.

“Sherlock-” The older man panted. “Yes-Fuck . . . Sherlock-Yes . . .” 

Hearing his own name, he felt shivers down his body.   
He couldn’t take it anymore.

The inside of the product was cold, but felt so good.

Closing his eyes tighter, John let himself think more about Sherlock.  
This wet silicon around his cock,  
Sherlock’s mouth. Sherlock’s arse.  
Sherlock engulfing him so tightly. 

Still hearing the violin, he let himself go.

Let himself moan out for the soul of his desires.

Right when he felt his body about to moan for the other man for the third time, he heard the door slam open.  
With military trained swiftness, John threw the product to the floor and grabbed onto a pillow to cover himself.  
However, what surprised him more than the interruption was the state of the interrupter.

“Ja-. . . Ja-Jawn”  
A few of those beautiful curls stuck to his forehead.  
His dressing robe fully open.  
Body flushed.  
Pajama trousers tented.  
The taller man slowly walked toward him. Picking up the red bottle, he climbed onto the bed.

John knew he should run. Lock himself in the bathroom. Maybe even grab as much of his belongings and run out of the flat, never comeback.   
But, he just couldn’t. Frozen. Unable to look away from Sherlock, slowly getting closer.

“You- . . . John-you moaned my name . . .”

“Yeah-” Unable to think of an excuse. Unable to think about anything at all, he held his breath.

“John,” John couldn’t look away. Those beautiful eyes. 

“Yes. Sherlock?”

“I want you.”   
Before he could answer, Sherlock’s lips were on his.  
He felt the taller man settling himself on his lap. They simultaneously moaned into the kiss as Sherlock rutted his clothed cock against his lube slick cock. John took this as an opportunity to slide his tongue into the other man. As John lifted his hand up to run his fingers into the detective’s hair, Sherlock pulled away.

John looked up, into Sherlock’s eyes. Even in the low light, John could distinctly see tears forming at the corners of those beautiful eyes.

“Sherlock-” John tried to cradle Sherlock’s cheeks with his hand, but Sherlock flinched away.

“John.” He could hear the failed attempt of firmness in the younger one’s voice. “Do you want this?”

“For the genius in the room, you are sometimes adorably dumb.” He successfully cradled the taller man’s cheek.

“Then-”

“Yes. I want this.” He chuckled. “If you haven’t noticed by what I was-um-  _ saying _ before you barged in, I’ve wanted this for a  _ very _ long time, you git.”  
As a tear finally fell, Sherlock dove in for another kiss.

While almost ripping off the gown, Sherlock hurriedly unbuttoned John’s shirt.   
Sherlock moaned into the kiss, feeling John’s firm hand grasping his ass cheek.   
Pulling away from the kiss, John started to kiss the long flushed neck. Gently nipping at the beautiful skin. 

Not wanting to let John stop, he slowly lifted his hips and pulled off the last piece of clothing off.  
But John pulled away.  
Sherlock couldn’t help but frown.

“Beautiful. . .” Smiling warmly, John traced Sherlock’s skin, slowly from his neck to his abdomen.

“Your judgement is clouded, John.” Sherlock stated, trying to ignore how he wanted John to be speaking the truth.

“No. You are always beautiful to me.” There was lust hazing over John’s blue eyes, but also unwavering truthfulness. “Most magnificent human I will ever meet.”

“John. I want you.”

“How do you want me?”

“I want you in me.”  
John sucked in air.

“I could almost just cum hearing you say that.” 

“Don’t. Not yet- ” Grabbing the forgotten product, Sherlock squeezed it a little to pour out some lube. “Not until you are inside of me.”  
Swiftly, Sherlock slid one lube slick deep inside of himself.   
For once in his lifetime, he was thankful for his sexual frustration for the other man. Thanks to masturbating only a few hours earlier, his body easily accepted his finger. 

“Sherlock-” John grabbed the other man’s hips, pulling him forward. “Let me help.” Dripping the lube onto his own fingers, he reached around Sherlock’s thin waist. Lustful eyes looking down at him, John traced the entrance with one of his lube slicked fingers. “May I?”

The detective nodded.  
Sherlock mewled as he felt John’s thick fingers inter him. John hummed in delight.  
Bucking back to feel more of  _ their _ fingers inside of him.

“John. More. Please.” Being so used to the bossiness of the younger man, John scissored another finger into the hot entrance. With a total of three in him, John thought that Sherlock was ready.

“I think you’re ready for me, Love.” John cooed teasingly.

“Unfortunately-” Sherlock moaned as he felt John’s middle finger grazing against his prostate. “Unfortunately. John, with the diameter of your penis, I am not sufficiently open enough.”   
John snorted. Grabbing Sherlock’s wrist, he pulled Sherlock’s finger and his own out. 

“You really know how to talk dirty to me don’t you, Sherlock?” Smirking, John slams three of his own fingers into Sherlock. 

“John . . .” A surprised moan fell out.

“I think you’re ready now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers!!  
First of all, thank you to all that have left great comments in the previous chapters!!  
I was delightfully surprised to the very positive reception!! :D
> 
> One more chapter left, but I'm a bit on edge on fully ending it.  
There's still a bag full of sex toys on Johns bed. (Or at this point, probably on the floor) Pity to have a nice vibrators and other toys go unused, right?  
My original idea was to have John masturbate using a cockring but, just didn't seem right.   
Maybe have an epilogue chapter of them using things? Or, just a whole new fic of that? What are your folks thoughts?  
But before any of that, next chapter will be the (I think) beautiful ending that you have all been waiting for!!
> 
> Stay tuned!! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you think I was going to make things easy? Hehehe  
One of the important things I like about Sherlock and John’s relationship (romantic or platonic), is how John knows when to put his foot down but also knows when to give up.

Sherlock was on _ his _ bed.   
Head on _ his _ pillow.  
Dark curls all over the place.   
Lust glazed eyes, staring at him.   
Chest hair, almost nonexistent, nothing to cover up the redness of the porcelain skin and the deliciously pink nipples.   
John couldn’t help but lick his lips.

“John-” Sherlock tried to steady his breath. “Please. Or else-”

“Or else, what?” Getting between Sherlock’s widely open thighs, John leisurely stroke his inner thighs. 

“Or else.” Frowning, Sherlock cocked his chin up a bit. Slabbing some lube onto his hand, he wrapped his hand around his own erection. John’s eyebrows went up. “I-I will just have to satisfy myself.”  
Keeping his eyes locked on John, Sherlock sucked in a hitched breath as he stroked himself gently.

John grinned. God. He loved this idiotic genius. No. _His_ idiotic genius.

“Then I guess I have to do the same.”   
Sherlock’s eyes widened.   
John straightened his back, and stood on his knees, lightly grasped his own cock and lightly stroked. Thumbing his slit, precum dripped down. John let out a sigh.

Sherlock felt his mouth go dry.  
John slightly tipped his head back, and let out a soft moan.

“Oh . . . Sherlock-” John stretched out the other man’s name. “Fuck, yes. . .”  
He was hardly touching himself, but bucked forward into his own hands.  
Sherlock let out a small mewling sound full of want.  
John looked back down at the other man.

“Aren’t you also gonna continue? Thought you were going to finish off with your own hands?”   
Sherlock’s lips became a thin line.

“Or, did you want to use _ this _?” Holding himself at the base, he used his other hand to lightly stroked his sacks as well.  
Sherlock almost let out a sound that was a mix of a growl and a moan.

It was sometimes wonderful to be able to shut the detective up.

“The- what did you say earlier? The _ penis _ that has a _ diameter _ that you _ weren’t sufficiently open enough for _?” John enunciated Sherlock’s words.  
Leaning forward, he teasingly slapped himself onto Sherlock’s thighs.

“John.” The last drop of calmness that Sherlock still had was poured into the name. John almost chuckled as a pair of long legs tried to wrap his body.

“Yes.”

“Fuck me. Now.”  
Years and years of being with Sherlock, John knew how to win at games when he needed to.   
Leaning in, he lays a soft kiss against Sherlock’s lips. 

“Sherlock.” In his serious tone, there was tenderness within. He put his lips against the taller man’s ears.   
Sherlock slightly tensed as he felt the blunt tip against his entrance.

“Sherlock. I love you.”   
With the swiftness of a soldier and the precision of a doctor, John’s large thick cock penetrated Sherlock in one strong motion 

“JOHN!!!” Sherlock screamed. The loudest sound that John has ever heard the detective make. Back arching, head slammed against the pillow, eyes rolling back.  
John moaned, soaking in the hot tightness of Sherlock Holmes.   
Knowing that his head was painfully pressing onto the bundle of nerves, John grinded his hips. 

“Mmmmmm. . .” John hummed.

“John-Jo. . . No, please-JOHN!!”

“Yes, love?”

“If you keep doing that-” Sherlock moaned as John continued. “I’m going to cum. Right now.”

“Oh, we can’t have that happen yet, can we?” John stated in a mocking tone.  
Without warning, John pulled himself almost fully out and slammed back in.  
Sherlock let out yelp full of pleasure.

“Better?”  
Not waiting for an answer, John held onto Sherlock’s thin hips and started to pound into him without mercy.   
Sherlock moaned out. Eyes wide open, mouth sucking in as much air as possible, drool sliding down this perfect lips.

Trying to maintain his fierce pace, John went down to devour Sherlock’s lips. Feeling the younger one’s nails digging into his back, he growled.  
Lightly biting Sherlock’s tongue, their teeth clattering. 

Pulling away, they looked into each other’s eyes.   
Sherlock’s eyes. Although slightly red from tears, as always too beautiful for John. He could forever look into them.

“John-” Panting, Sherlock looked at him with _ everything _. Hunger. Lust. Want. Love. So much love. 

“Sherlock.”

“I love you.” John felt his hair being pulled, forcing his lips against Sherlock's.

His body felt the vibration of Sherlock’s scream.  
The inside of Sherlock wringing his cock.  
Sherlock’s hot cum splashing all over both of their bodies.

That was more than enough. John knocked his head back. Let out a scream like moan.  
Although fully spent, Sherlock couldn’t help but shiver and mewl as he felt his insides being filled.   
With no energy left, John pulled out, and rolled onto the bed next to Sherlock.

Comfortable silence that they were so used to. All they could hear was their own breathes, still panting, but slowly slowing down.

John couldn’t help his heart from skipping a beat as he felt Sherlock leaning his head onto John’s shoulder. Even after having actual sex, from the suddenness of it all, his heart and body was far from used to any intimacy.

“I better get something to wipe us off. You more than me, really.”

“No. John, stay.”

“But we need to do something. More importantly, inside of you . . .” John trailed off.

“Your cum. Yes, it is inside of me.” Sherlock bluntly stated.

“Yeah.” John sighed. “And, we need to do something about it. As a doctor, I know that it isn’t at all healthy to keep _ that _ inside of you.” 

“Alright, then help me take your cum out of me.”

“WHAT?” John sat up, and stared down at the love of his life.

“I don’t want you to leave me here alone. You want your cum extracted from me. Logically, it would be best if you take me to the bath and wash your cum out of me.” Sherlock grinned. “You know, using the shower head, maybe even your finger, scraping it all out of me?” 

“Sherlock. You evil evil thing.” John chuckled as Sherlock’s grin turned into a smile. 

  
  


Their shower session mostly consisted of of their lips crashing, John’s fingers in Sherlock, and Sherlock’s fingers around John’s cock. 

Clean, breathing somewhat normally, they tucked themselves into Sherlock’s bed, and Sherlock welcomed being held tightly in John’s arms from behind. This was more than Sherlock had imagined the night would lead to. Everything he had ever wanted. Where he had always wished John would belong. 

“So, Mr. _ World's Only Consulting Detective _.” Sherlock shivered a bit, as John’s low voice vibrated. 

“Yes?”

“Was there really a case?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Sherlock slightly tensed.

“You giving me a bag of sex toys, me wanking quite loudly because I heard you _ playing _ the violin.” Sherlock felt John’s how breath against his neck. “And, of course, you barging in on my while wanking.”

“Well-”

“So, there wasn’t a case?”

“There was!” Sherlock stated in defense.

“Oh, really?” John mocked.

“Yes. It’s just, well-”

“Yes?”

“I actually solved it before even stepping foot into the store.”

“And?”

“I initially was going to accept payment when I took the silly case, as you always pester me about doing. But, well-”   
John only heard a mumble.

“Spit it out.”

“I asked to be paid in sex toys! I wanted to find out what _ you _ liked to use, alright?!”  
John chuckled at the expense of the younger one’s embarrassment.

“You could’ve just asked me, you know, like everything else you do.” John felt Sherlock shake his head. Damp curls rubbing against his chest.

“I couldn’t. . .”

“You were embarrassed about asking, weren’t you.”

“Maybe . . .”

“Well, it worked, I guess.” John chuckled again.

“That is true.” John could hear a frown. “And, now you won’t be needing those stupid products.”

“What!? Why??” Sherlock frowned more, as he heard disappointment in the older man’s voice.

“Why would you need those now!” Sherlock turned his body. Looking straight into John’s eyes. “You have me.” Sherlock stated sternly.

“Oh, don’t worry. No silly product will ever replace you.” John gave him a lopsided grin. “It’s just, some nights, when you’re spending hours and hours in your mind palace, I won’t want to bother you.”

“I don’t care! I forbid you to use anything, _ anyone_, other than me to induce sexual pleasure!” 

“Alright then, what if we were using them _ together _? Would you still forbid me to use them?”

“Excuse me?”

“If I were to successfully show you that those _ products _ could actually help us, would you let me keep them.”

“Fine.” 

“Wonderful.” John kissed younger one on his forehead.

“Good night, John” Sherlock tried to turn away, but was stopped by strong hands.

“Not so fast.”

“What now?”

“You never told me. What exactly caused you to hold this, oh, I don’t know- _ experiment_?” 

“Well, it seems that the internet cannot come to a consensus on who is the so-called top, you or me.”

“WHAT?”

“Although I do prefer to be the bottom, I did not have enough information to understand what you preferred.” 

“So-”

“Yes, I wanted to find out what you enjoyed more.”

“Sherlock, you git. You fucking git.” John shook his head, laughing lovingly. “So, is the great Sherlock Holmes satisfied with the results?”

“Very.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Apparently I’m making a sequel? *Shrugs*  
I have a few ideas on which toys for the boys to use, but does anybody have any requests? ✨  
More use of the Tenga? Maybe a cockring or nipple simulators? (ﾟﾍﾟ) hmmmmmm.....
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed this smutty piece of Johnlock porn!! I sure did enjoy writing it <3
> 
> Also! Find me [on Twitter,](https://twitter.com/LazyBilingual) where I’m a lowly Japanese cosplayer that hardly tweets in English. Or [on Tumblr,](https://kio-asahi.tumblr.com/) where I don’t post that often
> 
> Thanks for sticking long enough till the end. See you next time! *waves*


End file.
